


Bad Luck

by Anthropasaurus



Series: This Shit is Weird. [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But I'm also all 'fuck this! I want some of my best friends in Inquisition!', Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Hawke is a sarcastic shit and Fenris puts up with so much, Inquisitor is a hot mess with a heart of gold...well more like an oxidized copper, Inquistor and Anders may or may not have been lovers, Like it is Canon because there are bits, My Inquisitior and Warden are twins, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Read and you'll find out, She tries her best though, bless him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-11-17 04:54:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11268339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anthropasaurus/pseuds/Anthropasaurus
Summary: Go in, grab Varric, and hightail it the fuck out of there…that was Wren’s plan. Anything that deviated from that highly thought out plan was nothing but bad luck, as far as Wren was concerned. She certainly didn’t intend to become the Herald of some claptrap religion or the leader of the Inquisition. But if her sister could unite and save Fereldon from the Blight with only a handful of friends, it shouldn’t be hard for Wren to save Thedas with an army….and maybe, just maybe she’d find her sister in the process.





	1. Chapter 1

“So it’s agreed then? I’m the one going?” Wren rubbed her thumb over the side of her glass trying to ease her nerves.

“No one agreed to anything.” Fenris looked up from his hand of cards and leveled a look at her. “You were the one who came in an announced you were going to the Conclave.”

“She does have a point. She would be the one that could slip in and out the easiest. No one would notice a solitary elf,” Isabella said. Isabella and the others were seated around a table in the corner of a tavern. It was late enough in the night that a majority of the patrons had already retired for the evening. There were a few others nursing their drinks well away from the group. A few well placed glares from both Fenris and Wren had assured their relative peace in their corner. 

“What I do not understand is why you would wish to go to such a place. It will be crawling with templars.” Fenris turned his attention back to his hand, as he and the others threw a few coins into the pot.

“You say that as if I haven’t fought templars before. I’ll be leaving my staff behind. I won’t use magic, unless I have to. It’ll be an in an out, before anyone knows I was there.”  
“How are you so sure Varric needs saving?”

“Because, my dear Fenris,” Wren said as she plucked his drink out of his hand. “Who wouldn’t need saving from a place like that? Are you telling me that Varric is willingly being held at the Conclave?”

“Is that the only reason?” Hawke asked.

“I….no, it’s not….I want to see it with my own eyes. I want to see if Ander’s death was worth it. I want to see the Chantry come to a solution that doesn’t require all mages to be hunted down and slain or thrown into a Circle. I don’t want to hide anymore.” She downed the rest of Fenris’ drink before she got up disappeared outside. With a shaky breath she scrubbed a hand over her face, wiping away the tears that threatened to fall. “Shit,” she muttered. 

“Are you alright, lethal’lan?” Merrill followed her outside and enveloped them both in the blanket she had brought. 

“It still hurts, Merrill.”

“I know. I’m here for you, lethal’lan.” The two stood outside for a time, their arms wrapped around each other, to help fight off the chill in the air. After a time the two were interrupted when Hawke joined them outside. 

“This should be enough to get you there and back.” He dropped a pouch of coins into her outstretched hand. “If there’s so much as a hint of shit, I want you to leave. Varric can bullshit his way out of it. You cannot.”

“Thank you Hawke.” 

 

“Shit, this is definitely a round of bad luck I did not sign up for. How hard is it to stick with the plan?” Wren panted. “Seeker, can you slow down? Some of us are only half alive.” She staggered up to the Seeker, clutching her marked hand to her chest. “I can only go so fast.”

“Forgive me, but we must keep moving.”

“I know. I know. The mark is killing me, and all the crap. Just give me a moment to catch my breath.” A shuddered breath escaped from Wren’s chapped lips as she fumbled around for another potion. She had already downed one of the six Cassandra had given her. But without it helping her push her body where sheer adrenaline stopped short, she would have passed out before they reached the first rift. “Alright, let’s go.” She ignored the concerned look on Cassandra’s face as she bit off the cork and downed another. Ever since she had awoken, the mark seemed to flare at random intervals. Every time it sparked and flared, it would sap more and more of Wren’s strength and stamina. 

“It is not healthy to consume so many at once. You will-“

“Do my body a lot of damage? In case you haven’t noticed Seeker, I am on borrowed time as it is. So allow me to do what I can to fix the Chantry’s fuck up, because so far no one else has been able to…or so I’ve been told.” The rest of the way up the path was walked in relative silence. Only the sound of Wren’s labored breathing and cursing could be heard over the occasional falling debris. When they reached the rift, the familiar shouts from Varric spurred Wren on and past Cassandra. She jumped off the ledge, drew her bow and sunk an arrow into the eye socket of the shade advancing on Varric. 

“Willow! What in Andraste’s ass are you doing here?”

“Oh you know, exploding temples, killing the Divine, and who knows what else the Chantry thinks I’m doing.” She flashed him a weak smile before she notched another arrow and continued fighting.

“Quickly! Before more come through!”

Before Wren could react, a man grabbed her hand and thrust it towards the rifts. An agonizing pain coursed through her body. “Let me go! You’re hurting me!” She tried to peel the man’s hand off of her wrist. Several agonizing seconds later, the rift in front of her imploded. “Fenehidis!” She yanked her hand away and clutched it to her chest. 

“Forgive me,” the man said with a small bow of his head. “I needed the mark to test a theory.”

“Touch me again, and I will stab you.”

“Now Willow, play nice.”

“I’m all for playing nice Varric. I’m one of the nicest people I know.” She stumbled back and gripped Varric’s shoulder, while she waited for the spasms in her body to stop. 

“Uh huh,” he muttered with a roll of his eyes. 

“I know what you’re thinking, that man had it coming…and you know it.”

“If you two are done, we need to keep moving.”

“Right away, Seeker,” Varric called out. “You going to make it?”

“Probably not. But I don’t think the Seeker or anyone else cares….just so long as I can use what life I have left to close the….what was it called-oh yeah, the Breach.” Varric looked at his old friend with a sense of dread. They both knew she was going to die by the end of the day, either by the mark or from someone running her through. Her ghostly pallor, sunken in eyes and the cold sweat that covered her body led evidence that the former would most likely be the culprit. “Besides, who wouldn’t want to be marching to their death because of a religion that hunted her people and imprisoned mages?” The clenching of Cassandra’s jaw was the only indication that Wren’s insult was heard. “Fenehidis!” Wren collapsed on the frozen river as green sparks of energy erupted from her hand. “Focus on the ice against your forehead. Do not pass out or die…you’ll never hear the end of it from the others,” she thought. 

“My magic cannot stop the mark from spreading. For your sake we must hurry.” Solas paused by her side and offered a hand. She gripped it weakly, and with Varric gripping her other arm she managed to crawl to her feet. 

“What did you say your name was?” 

“I did not. My name is Solas.”

“Right. Wren…how long do I have until this thing kills me?”

“If we do not hurry you will die within the hour.”

“Oh…that’s….a lovely thought.”

 

“I have to close….that?” She fished the last of the potions that Cassandra had given her, and started the internal countdown. With this last potion, she knew she had at least ten minutes until her body would completely give out. The only thing that kept her going was the potions swimming in her gut and adrenaline. “I hope you have a plan?”

“No. This was the first. Seal it, and you seal the Breach,” Solas said from behind her.

“Right. No pressure whatsoever.” 

Leliana handed her a quiver full of arrows as they made their way down. “Try to keep yourself out of the fighting as much as possible. We need you alive to seal the rift,” Leliana said.

“Right. Can’t be selfish and die just yet.” Wren shouldered the quiver and notched a few arrows with a shaky hand. 

“You will need to use the mark to open the rift.”

“How?”

Solas held out his hand and waited until Wren placed hers in his before he turned it towards the rift. She felt the mark rip through her body as it reopened the rift. “Shit,” she whimpered as she bit down on the bow. Wren stayed as far away from the fighting as she could; only skirting forward long enough to disrupt the rift. Demon after demon appeared out of the rift, as they fought. After a time, the pride demon finally fell, after Wren managed to aim a well placed arrow into one of its eyes. “It’s about time,” she panted. “I don’t know how much longer I would have lasted.” She felt her body on its last legs as she scanned the battlefield for Varric. Once she found him she turned towards the rift and raised her hand. As the mark surged and attempted to close the rift, Wren poured everything into it as she felt as if her body was being torn apart from the inside. Her consciousness faded, and all she heard was the rift above her cracking shut. 

Before her head hit the rocks at her feet, Solas reached out and caught her. He knelt to the ground and felt her neck for a pulse. After several seconds he felt a faint thrum under his fingers, and released the breath he had been holding.

“Is she alive, Chuckles?” 

“For the moment. We need to return to Haven. I am out of lyrium potions, and she is in desperate need of healing.”

 

“Do you really think I would stay?” 

“You are free to leave,” replied Cassandra. “But can you think of any other place where you would be safe?”

“Yes, as far away from the Chantry as possible, and this Herald of Andraste crap. People were bowing to me out there a moment ago. I do not want any of this.”

“How goes your search for your sister?” Leliana asked.

“How is that any of your business?” 

“If you stay we can use the Inquisition resources to locate her.”

Wren paused for a moment as she looked between the two women in front of her. Part of her wanted to run for the hills and disappear back to Isabella’s ship. But the other part of her, the part of her that was the loudest, knew she needed to stay and make things right. “Do really think you’ll be able to find her now? She’s eluded you for the past year.”

“That may be true. But now there’s one thing working in our favor…”

“Me.”

“You.”

“Alright. I’ll stay….for now.”


	2. Chapter 2

It had been almost two weeks since Wren had agreed to stay with the Inquisition to help heal the damage the Breach had caused. “I never thought I would find myself back in the Hinterlands.” She and Cassandra were scouting ahead of the party. They had secured The Crossroads earlier that day and managed to find a few signs that lead to both the Templar and the Rebel Mage encampment. 

“Did you truly have no desire to come back?” 

“No. When you lose everything you hold dear, you tend to not want to be reminded of it. It’s why you haven’t returned to Nevarra if I’m not to be mistaken?”

“What makes you so sure I haven’t been back to Nevarra?”

“Because your brother died.”

“How did you-“

“You had the same look on your face that I had any time my sister was brought up when I was in Kirkwall.”

“I did not realize one had a look when they thought about a loved one that had passed.”

“Some don’t. But those who were deeply hurt by the passing never get over it.”

“But isn’t your sister alive?”

“I truly do not know,” she shrugged. “I’ve only received word from King Alistair, Zevran and a man called Nathaniel Howe after I came to Kirkwall, as to whether she was still alive or not. It’s been four years since I last heard anything. For all I know she disappeared with the rest of the Wardens….do you think Leliana can find her?”

“I believe she can. It is as she said before; when we looked for your sister in the past we had no clues. All we did manage to find was a letter addressed to Leliana in Vigil’s Keep. I believe your sister knew Leliana would try to find her one day.”

“I’m not surprised,” she snorted. “Neither of us liked crowds or being around people when we were growing up. We usually kept to each other’s company…wait, do you hear that?” grabbed her bow and made for the nearest tree. In a flash, she had climbed to the top and scanned the area ahead. 

“Do you see anything?”

“I…see a giant tower of ice. I think we’re heading in the right direction.”

“Good. Varric and Solas should be returning to the Crossroads soon. Hopefully they found signs of the templar encampment.”

 

When they returned to camp, Wren dropped her bow and other weapons in a pile by the fire. Her armor soon followed. They had successfully driven out both the rogue templars and the rebel mages fighting in the area. Master Dennet had been found, talked to, and terms mostly met for his conditions to supply the mounts. While they were dealing with the wolves Wren had found a half dead wolf pup under the body of his mother. None of his littermates had survived and the others didn’t think he would either. But she refused to listen to them. Varric knew she had a habit of collecting strays in Kirkwall. There were always stray dogs and cats following them or hanging outside her home in the alienage.   
After several attempts, she washed out the mud and blood that was caked into the pup’s fur. After a further inspection of his teeth, she was glad to see that he was old enough that he would not require any milk. She all but collapsed by the fire, with the pup in her lap. Wren could not remember a time her body felt this sore, even when she was running around with the others in Kirkwall fight slavers and bandits around every turn. After the pup was fed, she finally turned her attention to the bruises and scrapes she had acquired throughout the day. She reached into her mana as a familiar spell took shape around her fingers. 

“I did not realize you were a mage.” Solas’ comment drew Wren out of her thoughts. She let the spell fade as she turned and looked over at him. 

“It’s not something I try to broadcast to the world. Living in Kirkall…after you get hit with cleanse a couple of times; you learn new ways to protect yourself.” She reached into her mana and the familiar healing spell took shape once more. She turned her attention to the sleeping pup in her lap, and with a wave of her hand healed most of the damage his body had suffered. “I was never good with learning the spells the Keeper tried to teach me…something about them never meshed well with me. So I had to figure it out on my own. The poor Keeper,” she sighed. “She had a hard time of it with Merrill and myself. Neither of us would have made a good Keeper.”

“You were your clan’s First?” 

“I was the Second. Normally Dalish clans do not keep three mages within a clan. But we usually kept to the forest enough so it wasn’t an issue. I know of some other clans that unfortunately sent those with magic out on their own, in fear the templars would hunt them down if they had too many mages. We tried to help those clans in the past, but after a templar party raided our camp we had to stop.”

“I am well aware of that Dalish tradition,” he sneered.

“Do you have a problem with the Dalish?” 

“They are children acting out stories misheard and repeated wrongly a thousand times.”

“Oh, but you know the truth?” Wren felt her blood start to boil as she felt as if she was back in Kirkwall when she first met Fenris. She and Fenris had butted heads for several months after they had met. But eventually they had reached a common ground one night while drinking and a friendship slowly blossomed. With that thought in mind, Wren bit her tongue and hoped this too would have a similar outcome.

“While they pass on stories, mangling details I walked the fade. I have seen things they have not.”

“You seem to forget that all we have are the stories that are passed down. But that is the beauty of oral history. Each person tells it with their own little flair. But the core of the story remains the same. You only have to look.”

“I do not doubt that. But I have offered to share what knowledge I had; only to be attacked for no greater reason than their silly superstition.”

“You cannot base your entire judgment of the Dalish on the few clans you have encountered. Not all of us would have spurned such knowledge. There are some of us backwater Dalish who would have listened with great interest to what you had to say.” Wren cradled the pup as she picked herself off of the ground. “Before she was out of earshot she turned and looked at Solas. “For someone who has traveled the fade, you have a very narrow view of things.” She walked to the other side of the camp where Varric was playing a hand of Wicked Grace with a couple of the scouts. She sat down next to him and grabbed the bottle of alcohol he had set on the makeshift table. “Bloody elven pride…can’t drop it for one fucking minute,” she mumbled. She flipped Solas the bird before she turned her back on him and continued drinking.

“Everything alright Willow?”

“Oh peachy,” she drawled. “Just a couple of elves puffing up their chest and yelling at each other. I feel like I’m back in Kirkwall with Fenris again.”

“Uh huh,” Varric glanced over at Solas before leveling a knowing look at Wren. 

“Don’t give me that look!”

“You got mad and stormed off again. He has the same confused look Fenris had the first time you two had an argument.”

“I can’t help it people aren’t used to someone just walking away in the middle of an argument. I do not have the time or the energy to waste on something that pointless. People always end up saying something they’ll regret in hopes of winning. I would rather walk away and try again later.”

“But you won’t.”

“But I won’t. I’ll be petty and rude and nothing will happen until I have enough alcohol in me. Always the observant one, Varric.”

 

The next day Wren and Cassandra were at the front of the caravan heading back to Haven. They had gathered a group of refuges that had wished to volunteer and were taking them back to Haven, with a few of the scouts returning with them as well. “It’s too quiet,” Wren muttered looking around. 

“I agree. I have not seen a fellow traveler for quite some time.”

“Be on your guard. I don’t think we saw the last of the bandits.” Almost as if on cue, an arrow whizzed by and stuck the cart behind them. “Shit! To arms!” Wren scooped up the pup and all but threw him into the cart. “Can anyone use this?” She grabbed her bow and quiver and handed it to one of the refuges. “Stay in the cart. Use it only if it’s necessary.” With one final look at the refuges, she drew her daggers and ran back to Cassandra. 

Out of the tree line a dozen armed bandits charged towards Cassandra and Wren. Before they could reach the carts, Wren grabbed the pouch at her waists and threw the contents at them. “Stay back a moment. Varric! When I give the signal, let out a volley!” She reached into her mana and fed it to the seeds scattered about the ground. Thorny vines erupted from the ground and ensnared several of the bandits. On cue, Varric and one of the scouts rained arrows down on the ensnared bandits, while Cassandra turned her attention to the others. 

Solas had kept close to the carts, making sure he kept a barrier on both Wren and Cassandra. “They’ve got a mage!” he called out as he felt the familiar tingle of magic. He was so focused on finding the mage that he did not sense the rogue that had doubled back and snuck up behind him. All of a sudden he found himself on the ground with Wren rolling over him. The rogue in question had missed his mark but still managed to injure one of their party. With her good arm, she managed to sink her dagger into his neck before rolling off of him and staggering to her feet. “Find the mage and keep him distracted.”

“No! You’ll bleed out!” He snatched her hand away from the knife, earning him a glare. 

“I wasn’t going to yank it out” she snapped. “Now focus. He’s over there.” She pointed behind him and in a flash, disappeared from view. He scrambled to his feet and volleyed spell after spell at the mage, with almost no effect. From behind the mage, he spotted a familiar tangle of rust colored hair and knew Wren was in place. He threw a barrier around her as she tackled the mage to the ground. 

“Shit,” she groaned. “I’m done.” She rolled off of the mage and slowly sat up. Her right shoulder and arm were throbbing and covered in blood. “By the Creators this stings like shit.” 

“Andraste’s ass, Willow! What happened?” Varric was by her side as soon as the last bandit had been picked off. 

“The sun was in my eyes.” She looked beyond Varric at Solas as he approached the two of them.

He knelt beside her and tentatively felt around the wound. “I can stop the bleeding. But I will need to remove your armor to see the extent of the damage. Drink this.” He handed her a small vial before helping her to her feet. With his arm around her waist, he guided her to the supply cart at the back of the caravan. 

“What did you give me?” She wobbled and grabbed the cart, before Solas could catch her.

“A mild sedative. It will help ease the pain. Let me help you onto the cart.”

With a grunt, Wren managed to heave herself onto the back of the cart, Solas’ hands never leaving her sides. “Alright, much better,” she sighed. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons on her armor before Solas gently moved them away. 

“We can’t do anything until the dagger is removed. I’ll remove the dagger on three. One…” He yanked the dagger out, earning him a curse and a glare from Wren. He poured what mana he had left into the healing spell as the dagger left her body.

“Shit.” Wren’s head fell forward and landed on Solas’ shoulder. “Sorry. But it stings like shit.”

“It is quite alright. Now that I’ve stopped the worst of the bleeding, I can take a better look at the wound.”

“You’ll either have to cut the clothes or remove them yourself, my arm feels useless right now.” 

He worked in silence, doing his best not to move her from his shoulder. More of her blood stained the tunic than he had anticipated. He had thought leaving it in while she fought would have stemmed some of the bleeding. But upon further inspection, it seemed as though it had no effect. 

“You know…I am quite jealous of you.”

“You have no reason to be jealous.”

“I do though…you said so yourself.”

“I never said you should be jealous of me.”

“No..that’s not what I meant. I mean I’m jealous you can enter the fade at will. I’ve only been able to do it once, with the Keepers help. Interesting story if you wish to hear it one day. But if I could do that, so much of my life would be different….I could have saved so many people that I cared for…and we could have made it work without Merrill having to resort to blood magic.”

“Make what work?”

“A secret. One you have not earned to hear yet,” she muttered as she poked his cheek with her bloody finger.

 

“How is she?” Varric lifted the tent flap and peered into the dimly lit space. 

“She is resting. But I failed to notice the poison that was on the knife. She has developed a slight fever as her body fights the toxins.”

“Anders….we don’t…go,” she muttered. Wren turned onto her injured shoulder and kicked the blankets off. 

“Shit.” Varric made to grab her foot, but Solas reached out and stopped it. 

“She needs her rest if she is to fight off the infection. I will go into the fade and steer her dreams to more pleasant memories.”

“Thanks, Chuckles. I’ll owe you one.”

Once Varric left Solas slipped over into the fade and with relative ease, found and entered Wren’s dream. As it manifested around him, he found himself in a grisly scene. He could taste the fear in the air as fire and debris from the Kirkwall Chantry fell upon the city. 

“Fenris let me go!” Wren struggled against the elf, who trapped her against his chest. “Hawke please, don’t do this! We’ll leave Kirkwall! I’ll take him out of the Free Marches…just please, let him live.”

“No!” a man spat. “You know what must be done. Would you still be waffling if I had been in the Chantry?”

“This isn’t about you Sebastian,” Wren snarled. “Your precious Chantry failed the mages. It failed Kirkwall. Anders should not pay for their mistakes.”

“He killed innocent peo-“

“The Chantry has butchered my people and imprisons mages. It is not as innocent as you pretend it to be.” Her body warped as she tried to fade step out of Fenris’ grasp. Having sensed what she was trying to do, Fenris’ tattoos lit up as he strengthened his grip. 

“Calm yourself,” he muttered. 

“Would you be calm if Hawke’s life was on the line?” She sneered. “I didn’t think so.”

“Hawke, if he walks free I swear I will return to Starkhaven and I will raise such an army.”

“It’s alright Wren. The world needs to see this,” Anders spoke. “With my death Justice might finally be free.”

“Anders, I would have understood if you had told me….told us,” Hawke spared a glance over at Wren before he turned his attention back to Anders. From the expression on Hawke’s face, Solas could surmise he knew the apostate Anders was not going to survive this. He tried to grasp a hold on the dream, but like a tick Wren was in deep. He didn’t wish to cause any harm and therefore waited in the background for the right moment to intervene. 

“I could not bring Wren or you into this. What if you had tried to stop me? What if she supported me? I couldn’t let her do that.” He finally looked over at Wren, but turned away after a glance. The desperate look on her face was too much for him.

“You condoned this?” Sebastian spat with disgust. He took a step back from Hawke, his hand reaching for his arrows. “The brutal death of an innocent woman of faith? Someone you knew? Who trusted you?”

“She was hardly innocent! If she had done her job and leashed Meredith, none of this would have happened!” Wren continued to struggle as Merrill placed her hands on either side of her face, and wiped the tears away. 

“It will be alright. Hawke will know what to do,” Merrill whispered. 

“Wren, if I let him live, will you take him to your sister?”

“Yes! Zevran told me where I can find one of his contacts.”

“No you cannot let this abomination walk free. He dies or I’m returning to Starkhaven. And I will bring such an army with me on my return that there’ll be nothing left of Kirkwall for these maleficarum to rule!”

Hawke looked from Sebastian to Wren. “I’m sorry Anders. But I have no choice.”

“I understand…Wren, I’m sorry.” Anders gave Wren one last look before he turned away. Solas watched Hawke draw a dagger. 

“No! Please Hawke!” Her cry came too late. Whether it was Fenris’ arms finally giving out or him releasing her, Wren fell to the ground. She scrambled to her feet, pushed past Merrill, and ran over to Ander’s fallen form. A jumble of common and elven words tumbled from her mouth as she frantically ran her hands over his face and body.

“It will never be enough, but it’s a start.”

Wren fell silent as she looked over at Sebastian. All emotion drained from her face as she looked at Ander’s face for the last time. “Leave shem,” she snarled. She grabbed the dagger out of Ander’s back and turned towards Sebastian. “Leave now or I’ll scalp you where you stand.”

Before the dream could go any further, Solas was finally able to gasp a hold, walked up to Wren and removed the knife from her hands. “Think of a time where you were happy.”   
The faint sound of waves crashing against the hull of a ship could be heard in the distance. “Good. I want you to grab a hold on it and hold it close to your heart. Let it take shape.” Around him, the grisly scene of Kirkwall slowly faded as the open ocean took its place. He found himself on the deck of a ship, unfamiliar faces all around. Wren disappeared from in front of him and reappeared on the rigging. Her eyes were closed as she had her face turned towards the sun, as if she was soaking up the energy. He felt a sense of calm emanate from her as he disappeared. He spent the rest of the night with part of his self in the dream, to watch and make sure it didn’t return to the nightmare in Kirkwall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm probably going to rush through the first bit and get to Skyhold. I've done the first part of the game over so many times it gets kinda...though I blame starting with the intent of romancing someone other than Solas as the reason for starting over so many times. lol  
> I'm not saying Wren is a bit of a shit...but she's a bit of a shit. lol Also the bit with Anders, there was a lot more I wanted to add to the scene/write it how it actually happened. But it is the fade and how Wren perceived the whole incident happening. It's gonna bite her in the ass later. Thank you to everyone who has read and left kudos! It means a lot to me. :D


	3. Chapter 3

Wren woke to fingers gently feeling the wound on her should and with a groan she weakly tried to shove their hand away.

“Forgive me,” Solas muttered, without removing his hand. “I was just checking the progress of your wound. The dagger was poisoned and you had developed a fever while you slept.”

“How long was I asleep?” Wren mumbled, as the fog of sleep started to lift.

“Three days. I thought it best if your body stayed asleep while it fought off the infection. We are back in Haven. We just arrived this morning.”

“No wonder I feel so well rested. Where is the pup?” With a grunt, she pushed herself up, and grabbed Solas’ arm to prevent her from falling back. 

“He is sleeping by the fire. While you slept Varric and I made sure he was taken care of….I did not thank you earlier for saving me,” Solas muttered, his gaze focused on the fresh scar on her shoulder. 

“There is no need to thank me, Solas,” she muttered as she ran a hand through her disheveled hair. 

“Why did you put yourself between me and the attacker? You nearly got yourself killed.”

“Because even though we do have different opinions, mainly about the Dalish, I do like you. I may not show it. But I do wish to get to know you better. There is much I could learn from you, if you are willing?”

“What is it that you wish to know?”

“Everything. But not now. I am much too tired.”Wren fell back against the pillows and curled up on her side.

“Of course,” he said with a small smile. “I shall let you rest. When you are awake, I will gladly answer any questions you may have.” 

“Thank you for earlier,” she mumbled from under the covers. In the time that he had walked to the door, she had burrowed back under the covers and kicked her legs out from under them. “I usually have to suffer through Kirkwall until I either wake myself or The Baron bites my ear.” 

“Forgive me, I did not wish to intrude without your permission. But you had started to thrash about and it was the easiest solution.”

“I know. Usually whenever that happens, I have The Baron to wake me up.”

“The Baron?”

“She’s a cat I found in Antiva City.”

“Where is she?”

“On the ship with the others.”

“Do you make a habit of collecting lost animals?”

“I do,” she chuckled. “It’s been a habit of mine since I was a kid.”

 

A knock on the door the next morning, drew Wren and the pup out of the warmth of her bed. “My lady Herald, Lady Josephine would like your presence in the War Room.” The runner handed Wren a note before giving a small bow and leaving.

A half an hour later, Wren had washed and changed and was headed towards the chantry, the wolf pup in tow. “You know,” she said, looking down at the pup. “You still haven’t told me your name. We’ll need to work on that won’t we?”

“It is good to see you are healed, Herald,” Josephine smiled, when Wren entered the War Room. “Is that your newest recruit?”

“Why yes. So far the most promising of the lot,” she chuckled, as she bent down and scratched him behind the ears. “He has yet to tell me his name though….why was I summoned?”

“While you slept we sent off a missive to the Grand Clerics in ValRoyeaux. You and the others will be leaving for ValRoyeaux as soon as you are ready,” Josephine said.

“Good to know. I shall strive to never be ready,” Wren grumbled. “Also stop calling me the Herald. I am no Herald of Andraste or any other organized religion.”

“Forgive me.”

“It is quite alright, Lady Josephine. But I do not think this meeting will solve anything.”

“I have to agree with the Hera-Wren,” Cullen quickly amended, as Wren threw one of the markers on the map at him. He caught it with ease and placed it back on the table.

“That may be the case,” Leliana spoke. “But it is necessary. We need the Chantry to see we are not a threat and to quiet the rumors that are coming out of ValRoyeaux.”

“And you think sending me will stop these rumors? If anything, once they find out who I am it’ll only make it worse. You know my involvement with both the Kirkwall uprising and Anders.”

“We have taken precautions to ensure no one outside of those in the inner circle know your true identity,” Leliana said. 

“So what? I’m just a female with a magic mark on my hand? How many people assume I’m a human?”

“None. They know you’re a Dalish elf.”

“Hmm.” Wren pursed her lips as she folded her arms in front of her. “For now.”

 

The meeting with the remaining Grand Clerics had gone just as Wren has suspected it would go. Though she was thankful there wasn’t a riot or and public hangings. She was rather attached to her head and had no wish to part with it any time soon. She had a small sense of pride with the templar she had convinced to join. Though from the look on Ser Barris’ face, she knew it wouldn’t have been hard. They were making their way back to the villa, when Wren smelled something familiar. “Is that…” Wren stopped and sniffed the air for several seconds, earning her confused looks from her companions. “By the Dread Wolf! It is!” With a squeal, Wren turned and dashed through the crowd, to the source of the smell. In front of her an old Antivan woman was selling both fried and steamed dumplings. 

“You ran through the crowd like a crazy person for dumplings? Wait of course you would,” Varric said with a shake of his head.

Wren handed over a few coins and looked over at Varric. “You wouldn’t be teasing me if you knew how delicious these dumplings are. While you were off gallivanting off who knows where I was in Antiva City with Isabella…and of the many things in Antiva City, this is the one thing I miss.”

Wren found a small slip of paper on underneath the dumplings she had been shoving into her mouth. When she was certain no one was looking, she unfolded the note and immediately recognized Isabella’s handwriting. 

Meet me at The Misty Lady Inn.

Wren folded the note and discretely tucked it into the front of Varric’s shirt before she slipped away from the group. She scooped up the pup and once she was certain she wasn’t being followed she ran to the Inn. She knew Varric would be able to keep Cassandra preoccupied for a couple of hours while she slipped away. Her only concern would be Solas. He would notice her absence almost immediately. He always seemed to be able to find her, no matter how well she hid from the others. It was becoming quite frustrating.  
At the tavern, she slipped in behind a couple of sailors and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dimly lit tavern. She spotted Isabella in the back of the room, at a corner table. 

“It’s about time you got here,” Isabella said as she slid a drink over. “I’ve been waiting here for hours.”

“How did you manage to get that note to me? What would you have done if I didn’t go to her stand?”

“You and I both know you cannot pass up Antivan fried dumplings. You would go to the same two stands at least three times a week, when we were in Antiva City.”

“This is true,” Wren chuckled. She swirled the drink a few times before she downed it and slid the glass away. “Why are you here?”

“I came to make sure you were okay. We heard about the explosion at the Conclave….we thought you and Varric had died. But when rumors coming out of Fereldon and Orlais were talking about an elf that survived the blast, and walked out of the fade…we knew it had to be you. No one else would be stubborn enough to make it out of that alive.”

“Or stupid.” Her snort turned into a weary sigh as she leaned back in her chair. As the drink started to kick in, Wren felt her shoulders relax and she loosened her grip on the sleeping pup. 

“I see you found another stray.” Isabella reached out and scratched the pup behind the ear.

“How is The Baron?”

“Oh! That’s right! I almost forgot.” Isabella reached down and grabbed a bag she had tucked between her legs. She brought it up and carefully set it on the table. It started to move and before she could open it all the way, The Baron crawled out of the bag. “I thought you might want to see her.”

“Baron!” Wren reached out and scooped up her cat and buried her face into the cat’s fur. “I have missed you so much.” The cat chattered and meowed as she rubbed her head against Wren. 

“Can I see it?”

Wren looked around the tavern, and once she was certain no one was looking at them she pulled her glove off and set her hand palm up in Isabella’s lap. “I don’t know what kind of magic created this mark. It doesn’t pull at my mana whenever I use it. It’s almost as if it has its own mana or direct line to the fade.”

“Does it hurt?” Isabella poked at the faint glowing scar. 

“It only hurts when I close a rift. I feel as if someone is peeling the skin off of my arm with a very dull knife….where are the others?”

“Back in Bastion. I came with my crew. It was easier that way.”

“I need you to deliver this to Hawke. It’s my notes on the mark and what’s been happening. I would have sent it to him, but I was afraid that one of Leliana’s spies would intercept it. I feel like I’m constantly being watched.”

“Want to run away with me back to Bastion?”

“I would love nothing more,” Wren chuckled. “But I need to stay and see this through. I am the only one that can seal the rifts. Who knows, maybe having a Dalish mage as the blasted Herald of Andraste will do some good for my people and the mages?”

“You don’t sound so certain of it yourself.”

“I’m not. I’m terrified and I want to run. But I know I cannot. I lost my last chance to find my sister back in Kirkwall. I can’t lose another.”

“You should have left with Zevran like we told you.”

“I know,” she muttered as she looked down at the Baron. “But I couldn’t leave Anders. I still thought at the time I could help him…or at the very least, convince him to come with me. Maybe if I-“

“You need to forgive yourself. What Anders and Justice did is not your fault. There was nothing you could have done. You can’t fix people. All you can do is be there for them while they work it out on their own.”

“I know,” she sighed. “I just…shit.” Wren snatched her hand out of Isabella’s lap and shoved it back into her glove.

“What is it?”

“See that bald elf that just walked in?”

“No….wait, I see him. Oh, he’s handsome.”

“Very…well, he’s one of the people I’m travelling with. I had hoped Varric would have bought me more time.”

Isabella looked over at Wren a small smile on her lips before she finished off the rest of her drink. “It’s about time,” she muttered.

As Solas made his way to their table, Wren pulled an envelope out of her vest and tucked it into the top of Isabella’s boot. “For Hawke. Tell Merrill and the others I’m alright….hello Solas.” Wren set the pup on the floor and stood up from the table. With one last kiss to The Baron’s head, she handed her back to Isabella. “Come to drag me back to Cassandra?”

“I came to see if you were alright. You had disappeared without a trace. Varric and Cassandra are still searching the food stalls.”

“Normally, that would be where she would be hiding…and stuffing her face," Isabella smirked.

“Hey….well no, you’re right. It’s true. Alright Solas, let’s get going. Until next time, Isabella.” Wren leaned down and kissed Isabella on the temple before she followed Solas out of the inn.

“Were you hoping to run away?” Solas asked once they were outside.

“I had considered it, when I first got the note.”

“Why didn’t you leave?”

“It’s as you said, I hold to key to our salvation. I cannot be selfish and run away.”

“I see. I am thankful you decided not to run. I must admit, I was worried that you had fled.”

“I did promise to protect you from Cassandra and the others,” she chuckled. “I intend to keep that promise….as well as pestering you with questions until I am blue in the face.”

“Of course,” he chuckled. “You have but to ask…..if I may ask a question myself?”

“What is your question?”

“The apostate Anders, you two were close?”

Wren stiffened and shot him a cautious glance. “We were. He was the only connection that I had to my sister after she was kicked out of our clan...if you are wanting to ask me if he was a crazy abomination bent on starting a war, I shall have to tell you to kindly keep your mouth shut.”

“Forgive me, but I do not know how to properly word the question. But that is not what I had wished to know.”

“I shall tell you this then…Anders did have a spirit of Justice within his body. This was also the same spirit that fought alongside my sister and the other Wardens in Amaranthine. He took Justice into himself because there was no other way the spirit would survive outside of the fade… He was a man like any other, with faults of his own. But you cannot damn a man for his shortcomings. I chose to only see the good in him, which may have been the downfall...as for what happened with the Chantry explosion, he was both in the wrong and not. It was wrong of him to cause such destruction that hurt so many innocents. But it was necessary. You should know how mages are treated in southern Thedas. You are fortunate none in the village in which you grew up in turned you in for being a mage, or that you didn’t run into any templars as you grew up. The Circle is not a safe place for mages.”

“Have you lived inside the Circle?”

“No. I have Varric and his immense wealth to thank for that. But I have seen the Gallows in Kirkwall more times than I am comfortable with, and I had heard many stories from Anders.”

“I see. I am sorry for your loss.”

“It still hurts,” she shrugged. “It’s been years since it happened and I still have nightmares about it.”

“It is never easy losing someone you love.”

“Love?...I cared for him deeply and he was a connection to my sister, which I had been searching for since she was kicked out of the clan. Maybe that was enough to love a person,” she shrugged “Have you ever been in love Solas?”

“In love? No, I cannot say I have ever been in love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first of many old friends that I'm hoping will pop into Inquisition. ;D Also I had to make sure Ser Barris left. I couldn't let him return to the fold. He's too sweet and precious to die. Random tidbit on information: I wrote the ValRoyeaux bit while I was craving Chinese. I of course mean the Americanized Chinese fried dumplings. So that's what she's shoving into her mouth. I'm not saying she's highly motivated by food...but she is. lol


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay. Depression sucks. But onto better news! I commissioned Nippaaah to draw Mahariel! Ghestlin and The Baron are also in the picture.  
> http://filoli.tumblr.com/post/162719941409/nippaaah-was-amazing-enough-to-draw-my-oc
> 
> Elvhen Names Used:  
> Ghestlin-Little Monster

“I do not agree with this plan.” Solas paced around his cabin, the tension emanating from his body. “I do not trust this Dorian. How can you be so certain he’s not a spy for this Venatori cult?”

Wren lounged on Solas’ bed, with her back propped up against the wall. The pup, who she had named Ghestlin a few days prior, was also sprawled on the bed and using Solas’ pillow. “I trust him,” she said in between mouthfuls of stew. “My gut says we can trust him.”

“Your gut? How can you trust your gut when you know you are walking into an obvious trap?” He stopped and looked down at her. In the time that they have known each other she has continued to confuse him. When he thought he had a grasp on what she might be thinking, she would run off and do the complete opposite. At times it was both frustrating and amusing, usually the latter.

Ever since ValRoyeaux Wren has spent more time in his company that seeing to Inquisition matters. Whenever Leliana or Josephine has trouble finding her, they had discovered that sending a runner to Solas’ cabin would yield quicker results. This resulted in Wren either hiding or climbing out of his window when she had no desire to be cooped up in the Chantry. 

“I just can,” she shrugged. “I’ve been listening to my gut since I’ve been stuck here and so far it hasn’t led me astray….put me in tight spots, yes. But not astray.”

“I assume you are referring to the cave where we got cornered by how many bears?”

“Three I think? I blame Bull.”

“You were the one making all the noise.”

“This is true,” she chuckled. 

“We are getting off topic.”

“You’re the one who mentioned the cave in the Hinterlands. I was the one on topic…and I stand by my decision to take both Bull and Vivienne. He’s used to fighting Tevinter mages and Vivienne knows Fiona. They’re the two that should go. Plus when the trap is sprung and we’re in the middle of it, I know they can get us out.”  
“I understand why you think that. But I still think you should reconsider who you bring.”

“Who should I bring then? Varric? He has no way to counter magic. We may have fought a bunch of apostates in Kirkwall. But I have no wish to bring him into this mess again. He needs to be able to tell those that can fix it if I fail. Blackwall is a strong warrior but he has never fought Tevinter mages. Cassandra is a Seeker and I’m sure the mages would not be as trusting if I had her with me…and you have spent a majority of your life hiding from templars and away from civilization. I have thought about this Solas, despite what you may think. I know I’m a person who leaps first without checking the ground below. But I have thought about this. I have spent the past few nights awake thinking over this plan many times. Every possible scenario in my head has played out, and the only time I feel as if I have a slight chance of succeeding is with those two. I know this is a trap and I know something bad will happen. That is why I cannot have you come with me. I need to know you will be safe. Please just wait in the tavern with Varric.”

“I cannot.”

“Why?”

“The same reason you will not let me accompany you.”

“Right…the mark,” she muttered looking at her hand. “If…if you truly desire to accompany us, you can go with Dorian when he enters with the troops. But promise me you will stay back and get out at the first sign of trouble.”

“Thank you,” he sighed, visibly relieved. 

Wren cocked her head to the side, much like a curious bird, and looked at him for a moment. Before a thought could take root, she stood up with a shake of her head and with a mumble about wanting more stew left Solas. 

 

“You alright?” Bull looked down at Wren, who had a white-knuckle grip on her bow. 

They followed the messenger down the hall to the throne room. Ever since they arrived in Redcliffe Wren felt as if the air was charged with electricity. She felt like she was back on the Wounded Coast at the beginning of the rainy season, minus the frizzy hair that accompanied the copious amounts of rain. “Call it a gut feeling. But every time a Tevinter Magister was involved in something in Kirkwall it always spelled disaster….just once, I would like for something to not end in violence. But I do have the Mahariel luck.”

“Could be worse,” Bull shrugged. 

“Ain’t that the truth.”

“My dear, have you given what you’re going to do with the mages any more thought?” Vivienne asked. 

“I have.”

“Would you care to elaborate?”

“At the moment no. I want to see how this plays out. But be on your guard. It’s not going to end well or be easy.”

“That much we agree on.”

“Madame Vivienne, I’ll need your help with the negotiations….we both know I don’t exactly talk that great.”

“Of course, my dear.” 

 

Solas followed behind the soldiers through the tunnels, as he thought back to the conversation between him and Wren a few days prior. After she had left, Solas thought back to what she said and knew her logic was sound. Neither he nor the others were better equipped to deal with the delicate situation at hand. The fact that she had not jumped head first into the fray, like she way apt to do, either showed her ability to read the situation or a growing patience. Though Solas had a feeling it more to do with the simple fact that one wrong move would result in more than just her own death.

He sent tendrils of his mana out, searching for any sign of hers. He felt the edges and sensed the fear emanating from her. Her mana skirted and jumped, like a skittish colt. From what he observed over the past several weeks he came to notice Wren did not like having more than one pair of eyes on her. Any more and she would find any and every excuse to get away. In the beginning he had thought it no different than what he saw other elves do when humans were talking to them. But as he reluctantly got to know the mortal who now bore his mark he found it had more to do with her general desire to be in the background. She was not one who preferred to be the center of attention. Instead she shined when she was able to stay to the outskirts, either jumping into the fray as needed or saying a few select words. 

Solas stood in the back of the main hall, while the rest of the soldiers snuck into the room. He kept his mana intertwined with Wren’s, trying to offer what little comfort he could. He knew she did not want him in harm’s way. But he could not allow her to throw herself into it to save the others. She was the only thing that could fix his mistake. He needed her to live, no matter the cost. 

 

He watched in horror as the rift swallowed her and Dorian. “No!” He let out a strangled cry as he watched wisps of smoke curl to the ceiling. She was gone. He could no longer feel the pull of her mana. A strange emptiness settled over him as the implications of what was to come started to set in. He needed to get out of the castle, out of Redcliffe. But no matter how loud his mind screamed for his feet to move, they wouldn’t. All he could do was stand and stare. Stare at the scorch mark that was the only remains of Wren.  
A crack and pull at the fade caused Solas to pause in the doorway. A cold unnatural feeling, much like when they first met with the mages settled over him. He felt the same feeling just before Wren was obliterated from existence. As if answering a silent prayer, Wren and Dorian emerged from the unstable rift. Her mana crackled in the air, as the smoke cleared from around her. She had a wild look in her eye, like one who was having trouble centering herself in the present. 

“You killed him!” Before anyone could act, Wren lunged at Alexius. He fell like a rag doll as her fist connected with his jaw. “Wake up shem! You will pay for what you did!” She drew the dagger on her thigh but was stopped by Bull’s hand on her wrist. “They’re all dead because of you!”

“Boss. Look at me!” Bull lowered himself to her level and threaded his fingers through her hair. “Do you know where you are?”

“Redcliffe?...Redcliffe.” She tried to look around, but Bull’s grip on her hair prevented her from looking anywhere except at him. He had effectively made himself a blinder, while the Inquisition soldiers bound the unconscious Alexius. Her pulse thrummed at an erratic rate under Bull’s thumb. She clutched Bull’s arms with trembling fingers. He could tell from the look in her eye that whatever happened while they were gone effectively destroyed what little calm she had. He knew he had to act quickly and talk her down before things escalated any further.

“That’s right you’re back in Redcliffe.”

“Th-they’re not all dead?”

“No one is dead boss. Can you feel my pulse?”

“No.” Wren frantically searched Bull’s wrist trying to find his pulse. “I don’t feel anything.”

“That’s alright. Try my neck.” Without breaking eye contact, Bull tilted his head to the side allowing Wren to feel the thrumming on his neck.

“I-I feel it.”

“Good. See? I am very much alive. Now I want you to count the pulses.”

“Out loud?”

“If that is what will make you comfortable.”

“What happened?” Vivienne turned her back to Wren and looked over at the equally disheveled Dorian. 

“We got sent into the future,” he whispered. “This Elder One succeeded in throwing all of Thedas into utter chaos. The Breach was everywhere. She watched you and the others die to protect her. I was barely able to get her to stay within the circle of my magic.”

Vivienne pursed her lips and with a thoughtful expression looked over at the equally confused Solas. “It is fortunate that the two of you managed to return.”

“I agree.” Dorian left Vivienne’s side when he spotted Solas walking towards Bull and Wren. “I would sit this one out. It appears as though this Iron Bull fellow has it under control. You may accidently end up upsetting her further.”

“She is wounded,” he whispered. He made to step around but a firm hand stopped him.

“Solas, you were not there. Believe me when I say you are the last person that needs to go over there right now.” The two looked over as Vivienne reached over Bull’s arm and wiped some of the blood and demon ichor off of Wren’s face. 

“Do compose yourself, my dear. The King of Fereldon has arrived.”

“Alistair?” she sniffed. She stepped back from Bull and peered around him. Sure enough, Alistair was standing in the middle of the hall, looking at the bodies of the Venatori agents. “Thank you, Bull….I think…I think I’m okay now.”

“Any time Boss.” Bull stepped away, effectively blocking Solas as Wren made her way over to Alistair. 

“Do I even want to know?” Alistair asked when Wren stopped in front of him. 

“Oh you know,” she shrugged. “A Mahariel is involved so probably not.”

“You’re right. Any time you or your sister is involved in anything, it usually spells something bad.”

“Not all the time. My sister is not as hot-headed as me.”

“True. But she does have the same tendency to find herself is interesting situations,” he snorted. “Have you heard anything about her whereabouts?”

“I was just going to ask you the same thing,” she sighed.

“I’m sure she has a good reason for disappearing.”

Wren snorted as she ran a dirty hand through her hair. “At this point I don’t even know anymore.” The two stood in silence a moment before Alistair cleared his throat and spoke.  
“You know why I’m here.”

“I do. What is your decree, your majesty?”

“You say that with the same sneer your sister always had…and she was the one who suggested I could make a good king!” He pouted. Wren looked up at the king and thought back to when she first met him. If he hadn’t called out her sister’s name before he embraced her like an old friend, she would have reacted violently. She was not one that liked being touched and most people had a tendency to learn the hard way. Whether it was a punch to the jaw or a broken bone, Wren always made sure to get her point across. 

“It’s because us Dalish naturally don’t trust human nobility. Don’t take it personally,” Wren chuckled humorlessly. “I’ll take them with me. I need the mages to close the Breach, and I can offer them sanctuary. Just…just give us a week to gather everyone.”

“You have three days. That is all I can give you.”

“I understand. Thank you, your majesty,” she drawled with a slow smirk. 

Alistair chuckled as she left him to return to where Fiona and the others were gathered. “Fiona, you have three days to gather your people and make for Haven. I want the strongest of your mages returning with us today. You and the others can make your way at your own leisure.”

“What is going on?” Fiona asked, confusion and concern written all over her face. “What has the king said?”

“Because of what happened with….with Alexius,” she breathed. “King Alistair can no longer offer you sanctuary. That is why you are returning to Haven with us.”

“What are the terms of this agreement? You have not said anything, only told me to move my people.”

“Oh…right. The Inquisition will offer all mages sanctuary as our allies.”

“I see. I thank you Hera-“

“No.” Wren spoke over Fiona, with an annoyed expression on her face. “I am no Herald.” She brushed past the others and all but ran from the hall. A hand reached out and stopped her from going any further. 

“You are injured.”

“I’m fine. I’ve had worse. Please let me go.” 

“Is everything alright?” 

“No! Everything is not alright! It’s my fault.” Wren stepped away and paced down the hall. She needed to get out of here before it all came to the surface. Like an infection her memories threatened to kill her from the inside out. If she didn’t find Varric soon, Wren was afraid she would spill everything to Solas. 

“Wren-“

“You died, just like all of the others. I couldn’t save you…I couldn’t save them.”

“I am very much alive, and so are the others. You succeeded today, Wren. Do not doubt that.”

“Just leave me alone!” She fled the hall, with the intent of finding Varric. She found him at a table in the back of the tavern, drinking and playing cards with some of the patrons. She stopped in front of the table and stared Varric down with a half mad look in her eye. 

“I’m going fold…if you’ll excuse me.” He set his cards on the table, grabbed Bianca and led Wren from the room. Once they were away from the others, he sat her down and handed her his flask. “I haven’t seen you look this crazy since Blondie died.”

“I’m sorry Varric,” she whispered. “It’s all my fault.”

“What happened?”

“None of this would be happening if I wasn’t so blind.” Silent tears started trickling down Wren’s face. She picked at her cuticles, causing them to bleed. “If I hadn’t turned a blind eye to Anders none of this would be happening.”

“Willow, Blondie isn’t responsible for the Venatori coming to Redcliffe. He isn’t responsible for the explosion at the Conclave. You’re giving him way too much credit.”

“You know what I mean.” Her annoyed look turned to a glare as Varric looked over at her and chuckled. 

“I’m sorry. But I cannot take you seriously with that much snot coming out of your nose.” He handed her his neckerchief before he continued talking. “What happened with Blondie is not your fault. What brought this on?”

“The magister. He did something, and it sent me and Dorian into the future.”

“Shit.”

“The Breach…it was everywhere. Red lyrium had spread to all corners of the castle. It was growing out of people Varric!”

“But that’s not what’s bugging you, is it?” 

“Varric. I can’t do it again. When Dorian…when Dorian and I got sucked into the future I saw some things.”

“What things?”

“I saw people die.”

“We see people die all the time; most of which are by your hand if I’m tallying them correctly.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Wren grabbed the flask and downed half of it before she handed it back to Varric. “Shit.”

“What did you see?”

The booze had already started to take effect when Wren smacked her head on the table and let out a pained groan. “I saw Solas die. I saw everyone die. Their blood is on my hands.” She let out a sigh as the alcohol managed to take the edge off of her nerves. It didn’t completely eradicate the anxiety coursing through her, but it allowed her to have a better control on it than she did earlier. 

“I can see how that would be equally stressing. But this isn’t about him dying is it? It’s about you realizing you have feelings for him?”

“How did you know?”

“Willow, I’ve known you for almost ten years. You tend to learn a few things about a person in that span of time.”

“Very funny. But why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s not something I can tell you. It’s better for you to figure it out on your own…much like Broody and Hawke, or Merrill and Isabella.”

“I just…I can’t go through it again. But the thought of not doing it leaves an unsettling feeling in my stomach.”

Varric studied Wren for several heartbeats. He could tell the weight of what was happening was effecting her more than she let on. Quite frankly, he was surprised she didn’t run away with Isabella in ValRoyeaux. That small bit of knowledge relieved him more than he would admit. “Are you still going to leave once the Breach is sealed?”

“How did-?“

“You have a terrible diamondback face. I’m surprised no one else has learned your tells.”

“Let’s hope the others don’t find out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't have Alistair be Alistair in this chapter because he isn't close with Wren. I'm firm in the belief that he knew what he was walking into when he found out(via Leliana) that Wren was the Herald. After their tenuous meeting In Kirkwall, and Wren being a piece of jealous shit towards him(when he had more contact with her sister than she did) they were never really able to come to a mutual alliance/friendship.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rework of the previous 'Bad Luck' I had started and deleted some time ago. I didn't like how it was playing out, so I scrapped it. ((Sorry for those of you who liked that version)). I will be taking bits from the old one, so expect a couple similar chapters. I have a tumblr if anyone wants to pop in and chit chat. Thank you for reading it and I hope you come back for more. 
> 
> http://filoli.tumblr.com/


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